The New Scribe
by sylc
Summary: Gil-galad sets himself the task of hiring a new scribe. Elrond, worried about Gil-galad's habit of not using his brain, but another organ when he does such deciding and the possible consequences for the security of the kingdom if so, interferes.


Although Elrond, a lord of Lindon, had always passed an amused and blind eye to Gil-galad's favouritism towards pretty male elves, he had always disapproved of King Gil-galad's habit of preferentially hiring palace job applicants who were male and pretty over their ability to do the job in question. It was, as Elrond himself said, "not appropriate", and especially inappropriate for a High King of the Noldor who had the reputation of being not only the most powerful elf in Middle-earth, but also in control of the most powerful elven realm. As Elrond and Gil-galad's other "skilled" councillors knew all too well, it only took one spy or thief inside the inner workings of the realm to spell a crisis.

So when Elrond heard that the King's private scribe, a job that had one of the highest turnovers of twinks, had suddenly disappeared from the realm along with six hundred gold coins from Gil-galad's private safe, but left the actual treasuries that were answerable to the realm untouched, he was both relieved and hopeful. As he watched Gil-galad angrily send out guards in pursuit of the thief, he wondered if perhaps the King would finally see the folly of his ways and start to at least try to refrain from blindly hiring any job applicant that simply appealed to Little Gil-galad.

So he was sorely disappointed when, the following week, he stepped into the throne room and found himself witness not only to the second stage of the interview process of hiring a new scribe, but to enough pretty heads and bodies to make him wonder if he was mistaken and if Gil-galad were instead judging the latest fashions from the Elves of Fangorn (Gil-galad had a preference for Wood-Elves).

After about a half hour of his standing in and watching the proceedings, Gil-galad called for a break. Elrond took the opportunity to firmly extract the King from hitting on three of the applicants and take him to the empty antechamber adjoining the hall.

"Gil-galad, I hope you have taken some precautions to ensure that these applicants are trustworthy," he said, as he shut and locked the doors behind him. "And for that matter, I also hope that they are qualified for the position - most of them look barely past their majority, much less well versed in the skills required of a scribe."

Gil-galad just smiled broadly and approached him to wrap a comradely arm around Elrond's shoulders. "Elrond, Elrond, Elrond," he said with a sigh. "I hope you are not trying to say that you do not trust my methods in choosing applicants."

_Yes, that is exactly what I am trying to say_, Elrond thought irately as he reached back with his arm to reposition Gil-galad's hand back on his shoulder. It had been slipping - Elrond assumed on purpose - towards the general vicinity of his rear end. Gil-galad did not - or appeared not to - notice this subtle rejection as immediately the hand started to slip again.

Elrond tried for emphasising what he already thought should be blatantly clear to Gil-galad. "Sire, I am just worried because I fear that you will repeat your past - and I _will_ say carelessness - and set yourself up as a target for another thief or worse, a spy, or even worse, an assassin. Not every thief and spy will limit themselves to your rooms."

"Oh, I admit I was a little sidetracked when I hired the little safe-robber..." Gil-galad responded, patting the small of Elrond's back, "...but I have learned my lesson and I have made sure that all of the applicants this time around do not have a criminal record."

Elrond felt a headache coming on. "And... and so how are the applicants turning out in terms of their skill levels?"

"Oh, excellently! Excellently!"

A dreamy look had entered Gil-galad's eyes so Elrond prompted Gil-galad's brain towards his own train of thought by clarifying, "I mean... scribe skills - _writing_ skills."

"Eh? Oh, I think most of them have passed their majority writing exam," Gil-galad said, not seeming to notice Elrond's dismayed look. "They are all excellent talkers anyway. And did you see that little one on the end? His voice is like a nightingale's and I have not seen such a body since..."

"Yes, yes, but the successful applicant is to be your scribe and not your..." Elrond trailed off, unwilling to mention the word and encourage Gil-galad any closer to a sordid appraisal of the elves out there in the throne room. As it happened, he _had_ noticed that skimpily dressed elf on the end who looked unable to spare even an inch of the material of his clothes without gross indecency. "Anyway," he said, interrupting his own sentence, "perhaps I should help you choose your next scribe."

"What? Oh, no, Elrond. Thank you very much, but no. This scribe will only serve me so I need to be the one to choose him with no help from anyone else. This is my own battle to fight."

Elrond sincerely disagreed with him, but retreated and, after bidding his King farewell, left the rooms and returned to his own rooms. Indeed, he was already partly resigned to the idea of having another thief in the palace and near his private rooms. All of his most expensive and important treasures were well hidden and locked away; he was secure, for the most part, from any sort of attack on his finances and research.

_But not entirely, for nothing is safe for sure in this place_, he reminded himself as he entered his rooms, nodding in greeting at his own scribe/assistant - Erestor - who came forward to take his cloak and hang it up on the cloak rack beside the door. "And Gil-galad's bed is the worse leak."

"I beg your pardon?"

Elrond blinked and realised that he had spoken his last thought out loud. He smiled at Erestor. "I apologise. I passed the throne room on my way here and noticed that Gil-galad has begun his search for his next paperweight, for surely that is all his next scribe will be able to do for his paperwork."

Erestor's eyes crinkled with amusement; he was well acquainted with the on-going saga of Gil-galad's poorly chosen, but exceedingly attractive scribes, and indeed, as a professional scribe, Elrond expected no less of him. "That is assuming that the new scribe is heavy enough to hold down His Highness's papers," Erestor replied. "In my experience, King Gil-galad has a preference for light-weights."

"And air-heads," Elrond added. He sighed. "Oh, I wish I could sabotage this competition for his affections and stick a qualified scribe in there."

"As do most of the folk who think with their brains in this place," Erestor said as he turned away and walked over to Elrond's desk to return to some papers that he had been working through over the course of the day. As he went, Elrond suddenly found himself noticing, not for the first time, but probably for the first time in the context of Gil-galad's sexual preferences, how dainty... and, well, how handsome Erestor looked.

"Erestor," he said slowly, and after a long and thoughtful pause. "You are a Wood-Elf, are you not?"

"I am." Erestor looked up from wetting the nib of his pen, an inquiring look on his face.

"How long have you worked for me? And remind me, who did you work for before me?"

Erestor's brow knitted handsomely, but as usual, the elf did not question his reason for asking and instead moved to answer the question; he trusted that Elrond would explain everything to him in due time. "Forty eight years, coming on forty nine. Before that, I was a student of Celeborn's from the Hills of Evendim. You asked Celeborn for a recommendation and he recommended me."

"Yes, yes." Elrond was quiet for a few more moments, toying over in his mind how he might phrase his request or indeed whether he should venture it to Erestor at all. Finally, he decided to start by asking, "Has Gil-galad ever flirted with you?"

Erestor's brow rose. "I believe he flirts with most of the personnel in this palace. Indeed, in a strange sense, I think I would be rather insulted if he did not regularly do so," he said blandly.

"And you handle it well? I mean, you manage to keep him at arms length? Yes?"

Erestor's brow rose even higher on his brow. "My lord, the question of whether or not I would ever confess to not succeeding at refusing his inducements aside, I have always kept my relationship with him strictly decent."

Elrond nodded approvingly. "Hm. Well, that pleases me. Because if you are able to successfully reject his advances, then I believe it may be a good idea for you to fill the vacancy and become his private scribe."

Erestor's initial look of horror was, to Elrond's relief, dulled over the next hour of debate to a muted expression of distaste. And then finally the matter was settled and Elrond, with Erestor's reluctant nod to the proposal of his being transferred to Gil-galad's library and official promoted (but arguably demoted) to the station of Gil-galad's scribe, left his rooms and headed back to the throne room to venture the proposal to Gil-galad.

As he entered the throne room, he was somewhat perturbed to find it empty. Had Gil-galad moved the location for the third and fourth round of interviews to a different location? As he walked further into the room and went into the antechamber, however, he realised that no, Gil-galad had done no such thing. Instead, the fool had apparently skipped one or perhaps both stages and gone ahead and chosen the applicant that most appealed to his baser urges, with whom he was now entertaining himself with underneath an ornate table.

He cleared his throat and then, when the two elves fornicating on the carpet paid him no heed, cleared his throat more loudly.

Gil-galad reluctantly raised his head and stared at him. Beneath him, the successful applicant tilted his head backwards and looked at him curiously from upside down.

"What is it?" Gil-galad asked in a rather cross tone of voice. Seemingly Elrond had interrupted him at a high point. Elrond did not care. Instead he jerked his head towards the throne room, in silent request that Gil-galad follow him there so that they might speak in private.

But Gil-galad, apparently, was in no mood to oblige him. "What is it?" he repeated even more grumpily.

"You remember Erestor?"

The swiftness with which Gil-galad responded affirmatively to the question was rather discomforting; Elrond was reminded of Erestor's answer to his question regarding Gil-galad's relationship with him. But, reassured with the memory of Erestor's agreement to the proposal, he pressed on and, after a cursory, slightly pitying look at the poor applicant lying trapped beneath Gil-galad bulk, said simply, "If you wish, he is happy to become your new scribe. He has my support and, as I expect you know, he is more than qualified for the job."

"Yes," Gil-galad said slowly, thoughtfully, though Elrond doubted that Gil-galad was actually thinking much about Erestor's abilities as a scribe. "Yes, he is more than qualified." Beneath the King, Elrond saw the job applicant frown.

Elrond smiled tightly. His job was done and it was now Gil-galad's job to come to a decision. "Then, I will leave you," he said curtly and, after bowing to his King, left the room.

That night, after supper, he returned to his rooms and, to his bemusement, found Erestor already gone. On his desk, where Erestor's papers had been sitting earlier that day, lay a letter from Gil-galad that said to the effect that he had drawn up a contract with Erestor over supper and that the scribe had now been transferred into his exclusive service. Elrond sighed as he refolded the letter and sank heavily into the desk chair.

"Now I need to find another assistant," he said aloud and rather glumly.

He started when he heard the door between his bedroom and study open. "Gil-galad has already arranged that too," a cheery voice said. Elrond turned his head and found himself staring at the elf that he had recently seen lying beneath Gil-galad in the throne room's antechamber. The slight fellow was wearing a dressing gown that looked suspiciously like one of his own.

The elf smiled perkily at him. "My name is Lindir," he said brightly. "I am your new assistant. Gil-galad said to send his compliments. Come join me when you are ready." And then, without waiting for a reply and with an amiable wink, he retreated back into the shadowy confines of Elrond's bedroom.


End file.
